Problem Child

Cayenne Bradley

Father has his ear to a glass, glass to the wall. Be quiet, he tells Daughter, I'm listening for something. For what, she asks. For something that isn't you. Daughter says I am I am I am and Mother, who has her head in the oven, says who the hell are you, anyway. Sister is still trapped in the attic, but no one remembers her. I think something is missing, Daughter says, but I don't know what. Good, replies Father, there's already far too much everything in this house for my liking. Daughter tries to convince herself that Mother's only in the oven to hunt for a lost ring, or something. Don't you guys hear that weird banging noise, she says, I think there's a ghost. Mother says, can everyone shut up please, I have a wicked headache. Daughter decides the mysterious sound is the neighbors fucking, that's what has Father all worked up. She will sleep with men while still halfway girl, but all she'll be able to think about is Father's ear against the wall. Maybe that's why she does it. I just get this strange feeling that something isn't right, Daughter says, don't you feel it too, I'm not crazy. Father doesn't hear her, he's too busy listening for something he had no hand in creating. Mother slithers out of the oven like a limp fish, face blue. And yet, she replies, you're always the only one here with a problem.